the phoenix and the otter
by Cora Clavia
Summary: Post-ep for Boom. Life at Chez Castle.
1. Chapter 1

Set in that mythic, mysterious period post-_Boom_.

* * *

It's been a week since Scott Dunn was caught, but she hasn't left Castle's loft.

She will. She really will.

But apartment hunting takes time, and she's had a nightmare with the insurance company, and the entire Castle family has told her, in no uncertain terms, that they're not letting her leave until she has a new place. She's tried to explain that she could stay with her dad, or even with Lanie, but Castle just scoffed, Alexis screwed up her nose, and Martha waved her hands dismissively. _Kate. Darling. Since I've moved in with Chet, Richard has all the room in the world. Why keep moving? Stay here till you have a lovely new _chez toi.

Which is why she finds herself on the couch with Rick Castle one night after work, drinking wine and watching TV.

It's not weird. That's the problem: it should be uncomfortable. It's not. It's far too comfortable.

Castle's been surprisingly good about giving her space, she has to admit. His bedroom is a floor away, and she has her own bathroom. He doesn't cling and doesn't pressure her to participate in anything. Just welcomes her for family dinners and asks which movie she wants to watch.

His wine selection is perfection itself. She's sipping now at some obscure French label she's never heard of that's better than anything she's ever tasted.

Kate's instinctively curled in the corner of the couch, but Castle doesn't seem to have the same instinct; he's sitting closer than she expected.

He smells good.

Nope. No. She focuses on the screen. "Anything on?"

He shrugs. "Nothing yet."

He flips to the Discovery Channel, and stops on a camera filming a pair of otters. One is chasing the other, who keeps circling a pool, occasionally stopping to kick at him.

"Aww. Look. That otter got a shadow." He chuckles. "Poor thing can't escape."

"I know how she feels."

He turns to stare at her, jaw dropped. "_Beckett_. Are you implying that I chase you around like a pathetic little otter?"

"Of course not." She sips her wine. "The otter doesn't talk incessantly."

Castle clutches his heart dramatically. "I'm hurt. And wounded. See if I ever pull you out of a burning building again."

She huffs a short laugh. "Oh, really?"

"Next time you get blown up, you can call someone else to come pull you out of the inferno, Detective."

She's always appreciated his humor, but she has this odd need to get past it tonight. Because it's all just so much _more._

"Castle." She reaches out and squeezes his hand. The wine is swirling in her bloodstream, a rich, low hum that buzzes in her veins, and her mouth is just a second ahead of her. "Thank you. For everything."

He smiles at her, soft, quiet, twining his fingers through hers. "You're welcome. Now hush. Otters."

* * *

It's not long before Kate starts nodding off. It's not unusual for her to fall asleep watching television at night, and the wine certainly isn't stopping it.

She just manages to catch herself as she leans toward his side. Her head snaps up, her cheeks hot. "Oh. Uh. Sorry, I wasn't -"

"I'm a highly specialized snuggler. Feel free to use my shoulder. Or any other part of my b-"

"Castle."

"Right. Sorry."

"You don't look sorry."

"True. I'm not."

They fall silent, watching as the soothing British narrator talks about the playful habits of aquatic mammals, and Kate's still so tired. Her whole body is relaxing, loose, slack limbs, and his couch is _so_ comfortable. The otters zip through the pool, and she smiles drowsily. Cute. So cute.

This time, she's not really aware of her eyes closing until she's already asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Rick finds himself dozing a bit. It's been a long week.

He blinks awake to find a family of otters on the screen and Kate Beckett sleeping on his shoulder.

He holds his breath, tensing up for the inevitable moment she wakes and realizes she's - well, for lack of a better word, _snuggling_ him and pulls away and maybe decides to punish him for it. But nothing happens; she doesn't wake, and he just sits there, very still, staring down at the one of the most complicated persons in his life.

He's known something's going on since - since - honestly, since the first moment she glared at him with that adorable little scowl.

He knew it was serious even before he broke into the burning wreckage of her apartment, adrenaline fueling his frantic attempt to break down the door.

So now she's sleeping on his shoulder, all soft and relaxed, and he really never thought he'd ever see Kate Beckett vulnerable. Most of the clothing she salvaged from the explosion is still at the cleaners, so tonight she's in a pair of his old sweatpants and a sweatshirt Alexis lent her. Her bare feet are tucked up under her, and all drowned in the too-big clothes, she looks so very, very young.

It catches him off-guard. That was sharper than he realized.

"Beckett?" he murmurs. She doesn't move.

The sick _boom_ from her apartment flits across his mind, and irrational, stupid panic seizes his chest.

She's not moving.

"Beckett. Beckett." Panic is dry in his mouth, metallic on his tongue. "Kate."

She slowly sucks in a long breath, one of her hands flexing, bunching into a fist against his thigh as she wakes up. She sits up slowly. Her eyes are dazed, and he watches them slowly focus -

- on his mouth.

Oh.

The flare of heat that flickers across her face is brief but unmistakable. And then she looks up, meets his eyes, and he's lost.

She swallows, and he's fixed on the long line of her throat, pale and elegant, so very close, the graceful sweep up to the line of her jaw, the tantalizing pink flush of her lips.

The wave of pure _want_ that rushes through his body is instant and hot and swamps him, drowning any chance of resisting when she's so close and so soft and warm and perfect. They're already so close that it takes only a second, a few inches, nothing but a breath, and he's not sure who started it but suddenly her mouth is on his.


	3. Chapter 3

She doesn't even know who moves first. It's more just...gravity.

He's a good kisser. A really, really good kisser.

Kate sinks into him, limp, unresisting. His hand slides over her back, tugging her into his body, and she just gives in.

He's teasing, nipping lightly at her bottom lip, tracing the seam of her mouth with his tongue.

It's not what she ever expected, the hundred times she's secretly imagined kissing him. It's playful, light, tantalizing. She's sixteen all over again and they're sneaking into the school library between classes, her and the cute boy with the bright blue eyes and the smile that always told her he'd be a good kisser. Delicate little nips and caresses, his lips pulling at hers, tasting her mouth, gentle and seeking all at once.

It takes her a long moment to realize he's pulled back, his breath painting her neck. She takes in a shaky lungful of air. "What are we doing?"

"We're making out." Her cheeks burn as he steals another light kiss from her mouth, smiling against her lips. "It's fun."

"We - um - " she's having trouble forming words; his lips are feathering soft, distracting kisses down the column of her throat and it's just so _distracting_ - "- Castle. _Castle_." She swallows. "Alexis. Your mother. We - should - "

"Oh. Uh. Right."

He sits back, and she immediately regrets her words. Not that she wants his family walking in on them - but - she doesn't just want it to end like th-

"We could - go to my room."

Her face must read panic, because Castle hastens to explain himself. "Not. I mean. Just - for privacy. To - we can - talk. Or keep doing th- I mean, if you want -"

He blinks nervously for a second before she can feel a little smirk breaking through her face. His eyes narrow. "Oh. Cute. You think it's funny when I get scared?"

"Yeah. I do."

She bites her lip and suddenly he's on her again, sucking her lower lip into his mouth gently.

"You have no idea how sexy it is when you do that," he husks, his eyes dark.

Her heart is pounding in her chest, an erratic tattoo that leaves her unsettled, shaking, and she's in a thousand places right now and it would be so easy. Too easy.

She needs to breathe.

So she sits back, meets his piercing gaze. "Just give me a minute." At his questioning look, she explains. "I'm just - going to go change."

* * *

Castle spends several anxious minutes telling himself she's not going to freeze. She's not going to just stay upstairs and pretend none of this happened.

He tugs on a t-shirt and pajama pants, brushes his teeth, runs a hand through his hair, and settles uneasily on the corner of the bed, because this might be stupid, maybe he pushed too far, and he might just end up sitting here waiting all night because she's not -

Oh.

She's right there.

She's leaning into his bedroom, biting her lip, all wrapped up in those too-big pajamas he secretly loves, because they make her look so soft and cuddly. So unlike the stubborn, brilliant, fearless cop he saw within seconds of meeting her. It's Kate Beckett at home, unwound, comfortable.

"Hey."

"Hey," he breathes. "Uh. You - look nice."

Her mouth quirks up in a little smile, the playful one he loves seeing on her. She smiles more now. Everything that's happened in the last week, and she can still smile. It's one of the reasons he l-

- likes her. A lot.


	4. Chapter 4

There's a long moment of silence, stretching between them, peaceful and a little tentative.

When Castle opens his mouth, her blood warms, because what if he says -

"Which side do you want?"

Oh.

"Um. The right?"

"The right from here, or the right from in the bed?" She shoots him a glare, and he shrugs sheepishly. "Just trying to be precise, Detective."

"Kate."

"What?"

Her cheeks are warm, but she makes herself say it. "I'm getting into your bed. You can call me Kate."

* * *

She climbs into bed beside him; he pulls up the covers and they're neatly tucked, side by side, snug and tidy and ridiculous. Ridiculous. She's in Richard Castle's bedroom. She doesn't know what's going on. There was a moment, putting on her pajamas, when she thought about letting him take them off her tonight - but it's not right. Her mind is still in a hundred places, and she's still a homeless cop, and she feels unsettled, like her feet aren't quite under her.

She wants to kiss him again.

Kate diverts herself from the mental refrain of_ we're in bed but we're not having sex but I keep thinking about having sex with him and I don't know what to do_ by glancing around. His room isn't exactly what she pictured - she's not even trying to tell herself she hasn't thought about his bedroom - but it's beautiful, in a rich, understated way. Deep colors, hardwood floor, framed animal prints on the walls. The lion photo is gorgeous. She catches a glimpse of an elephant across the room, its long trunk raised.

_Wishful thinking, Castle?_

Her face gets warm. Because now she's staring at the elephant's trunk and thinking about Castle and it's too much to take in just yet.

They don't do things in the right order. They never have. She knew him long before she met him, on a cold day in a crowded bookstore with too many faces. Nine years later, he met her, in one more noisy, shallow place with too many faces. The past came back, a square-jawed past with an FBI badge, and it should have worked but it didn't. They live together but she's still never said yes to the idea of debriefing each other.

Or has she?

She keeps coming back to the elephant trunk and the fact that she will eventually find out just how...wishful it is.

They're sitting up against his headboard like the Mike and Carol Brady, and she doesn't know what to say. She's done the smoothing the sheets thing, and there's not a lot to do to distract her from the fact that he looks as unsure as she feels right now.

"My laptop's in the office," he suggests. "I could pull up the otter documentary, if you want to keep watching it."

She slept through most of it earlier, but she remembers the narrator saying one line, one line that threaded through her sleep. These charming creatures usually mate for life. It's twining around the mental image of the persistent little otter, chasing his true love determinedly, round and round the pool, until she finally gives in and lets him catch up.

Maybe she does know what to say.

"Actually -"

She pauses, not sure if she should continue.

"What?"

"Castle. I was thinking -" He watches her expectantly, and her mouth curves up into a smile. "I was thinking maybe we could make out some more."

"I like that idea much better."

Kate can't help but laugh as he immediately turns to face her, his eyes sparkling. "Of course you - _mmph_."


End file.
